Dragon Land (3 page)

Emily’s mum began to cry. ‘I’m so thankful you were too old to enlist, Albert, but the telegram said missing in action.’

Albert snorted. ‘Army lies. No, he’ll be dead all right.’

I noticed Emily standing beside me. She took my hand and we both began to cry.

The door opened and her parents both appeared, looking shocked. Mr Whyte took a coin from his overalls. His hands were so large and rough that I couldn’t see the coin in his palm until he held out a sixpence.

‘Emily, Mum will take you and Lizzie down to the ice-cream shop and buy you both a cone.’

Mrs Whyte hurried forward. ‘Yes, that’s a good idea.’ She took our hands and we had almost reached the front door when Bridget Murphy arrived.

‘I have to take Lizzie home. Her granny will be staying in the house to look after Beth, but she wants to thank you for all your help.’

So I walked out of this unreal world, back to our house with Mrs Murphy. I felt relieved that we hadn’t gone for an ice cream because I just knew that if I’d eaten it I would have been sick, and Mum had enough to deal with without that.

The first thing I noticed when we reached the street were the families emerging from the park. The sun was still bright in the western sky and the children looked dusty and tired, as if playing on the swings and running about on the grass had worn them all out.

Mrs Murphy remarked as she surveyed the noisy exodus, ‘They’ll all be sleeping like logs tonight, bless their wee hearts.’ She gazed at the sky. ‘And it’s going to be a lovely sunset, I reckon.’

I looked at her as we walked ever so slowly towards our close. Mum had said that Mrs Murphy had come over from Ireland but had been a widow for years and had brought up six children on her own. Most of them had moved away, but she still had two daughters who regularly came to visit her, which, Mum said, was a blessing because she was getting old. I had no idea of Mrs Murphy’s age, but she certainly looked old, with her grey hair pulled back in an untidy bun that seemed to be too heavy for her thin face and wrinkled neck.

I liked meeting her on the stair, especially on a Sunday morning when she was setting off for the chapel. She wore her best dress and hat on those occasions and I knew this because she would tell me. I would also smell the mothball aroma from her black coat as she passed me by.

‘I’ve got on my Sunday best clothes, Lizzie. Do you think I look good enough to go and speak to the Lord?’

I always said she looked wonderful, which seemed to please her.

She gave my hand a squeeze as we reached the close and the second thing I saw was that all the curtains were closed, even the ones in the basement. I didn’t want to ask her why this was, so we walked up the stairs. I could hear voices as we approached our door and was surprised to see Mr and Mrs Collins from downstairs and old Mr Willison from the top landing.

Mr Willison was leaning heavily on his stick as he said goodbye to Granny. ‘Aye, it’s a bad business, Mrs Flint. A bad business.’

When the neighbours saw me, they patted me on the head, but Mrs Collins dropped down on one knee and gave me a tight hug. I could hardly breathe but, minding my manners, I stayed still until she released me. Wiping her eyes with a handkerchief, she hurried away with her husband, back down to her own house.

Granny moved ahead of me and went into the kitchen. To my astonishment and outrage, I saw the table had been cleared of the sandwiches and jelly and my birthday cake. My outrage turned to tears and I cried loudly.

Mrs Murphy said, ‘That’s right, wee lass, get all your tears out now and you’ll feel better in the morning.’

Granny sat down wearily on the chair by the fireside. The grate held a colourful paper fan, which Mum always placed there during the summer months when the fire was unlit. I looked around, but there was no sign of my mother.

Before I could speak, Granny said, ‘Now, Lizzie, you must promise to be a very brave girl and let your mother sleep. Will you do that?’

I nodded so hard that I was sure my head would fall from my neck. ‘Yes, Granny.’

‘I want you to go and get washed and put your nightdress on and I’ll make cocoa.’

I moved slowly, as I wasn’t sure my legs would hold me up, but I did as I was told. Granny got up from her chair and went to the door with Mrs Murphy.

She spoke quietly and I had to move nearer to hear what she said. ‘The doctor has given Beth something to make her sleep. Thank you for all your help.’

Mrs Murphy said she hoped we would all be well, adding, ‘I’m off to the chapel to light a candle and say a prayer for poor Mr Flint.’

For some reason, this kindly act of praying to Jesus and the angels comforted me and I fervently hoped that Jesus would answer Mrs Murphy’s prayer and send my father home safe and well.

By the time Granny re-entered the room, I was in my nightdress. She quickly made the two cups of cocoa and then, to my delight, she produced a large slice of my birthday cake with one small candle sitting on top of the icing.

‘You didn’t think I would forget your birthday, Lizzie, did you? Now, blow out your candle and make a wish.’

I screwed up my eyes and wished and wished that my father would be all right and come walking through the door.

I lay in bed and knew I wouldn’t sleep, but to my astonishment I awoke next morning with the sun trying to penetrate the closed curtains. I heard someone moving around and hoped it was Mum, but it was Granny. She was stirring a pot of porridge on the stove and the table was set for two.

When she saw me looking at it, she said, ‘I’ll take some tea and toast to your mother when she wakes up.’

The curtains were still closed and the room looked dim, like it was underwater. I asked if I could go and play with Emily, but Granny shook her head. ‘I want you to stay here while I quickly go back to my house. I’ll only be an hour.’

Then the door opened and Mum appeared. She looked tired and ill. I made to jump up, but Granny gave me a stern look as she stood up.

‘Beth, come and sit here.’

Mum looked around in confusion, almost as if she had found herself in the wrong house with the wrong people, but she let Granny guide her to the chair next to me. Then Mum put her hand over mine and held it tightly. I was on the verge of tears, but I knew Granny would be annoyed if I upset her.

‘I’ll make you some breakfast’, said Granny, bustling over to the stove, but Mum said she didn’t want anything.

‘Just a cup of tea will be fine, Mary.’

Granny brought it to the table. ‘I’ve told Lizzie I must go back to my house, but I’ll just be an hour. Is that all right, Beth?’

Mum nodded listlessly and stirred her tea with the spoon. Granny gathered up her handbag and coat. ‘I’ll be back soon.’ She looked at me. ‘Take care of your mum, Lizzie, until I get back.’

I was still nodding my head when she disappeared out through the door.

Mum was still stirring her tea. ‘I’m sorry about your birthday party, Lizzie.’

‘It doesn’t matter, Mum,’ I replied, feeling guilty that a few hours earlier I had been outraged and tearful. But now the grim news had penetrated my brain and I knew things would never be the same again – not unless by some miracle my father wasn’t missing but on his way home. I screwed my eyes up tight, as I didn’t want to burst into a fresh bout of tears.

‘I know what we’ll do, Lizzie,’ she said, standing up and making her way to the display cabinet. This was one of her favourite pieces of furniture and I loved it as well. I had been told that it had belonged to her own mother: a mother who had died when she was a small child, leaving her distraught father to bring her up on his own until in later life he married a widow with a daughter. The bottom two shelves of this cabinet held all the cups and medals my father had won when he was young. Mum gathered them in her arms and carried them to the table.

‘Put yesterday’s newspaper down, Lizzie, and we’ll clean all Dad’s trophies.’

She brought out the small tin of silver-cleaning fluid and the cloths. ‘I’ll put the Silvo on and you can polish it off.’ She picked the first trophy up and turned it in her hands. ‘You know your dad is a champion swimmer, don’t you?’

I nodded. My dad’s sporting achievements were well known in our house.

‘This was the first cup he ever won, when he was 14. He joined the swimming club at the local baths and he was the champion that year.’

For a few minutes we busied ourselves with our task. Suddenly, Mum said, ‘You look so much like him, it’s uncanny. You have the same hair and eyes, and you’re going to be as tall as he is, and I also think you have the same nature. He loved adventure and doing things with his life. He loved his swimming and tennis, and he spent a year sailing around the British Isles with the Naval Cadets. Of course, that was before I met him.’ She picked up an ornate trophy, which had his name engraved on it. ‘1908, the year he won this tennis cup, was the year I met him. I had gone with a friend to see the championship match.’ She stopped. ‘I didn’t like tennis very much, but my friend loved it. Well, Dad and I met afterwards and both fell in love and that was it. We were married two years later. I never understood what he saw in me, because I don’t like sport and I always thought you had to share the same tastes when you got married.’

I knew I resembled my dad very much and Mum would often tease me by telling me I didn’t have one single feature inherited from her. She was right, of course. I gazed at her over the table. Her head was bent as she concentrated on cleaning this special cup. Her hair was a soft, glossy brown and her eyes were hazel. She was slim and tiny and had delicate white hands. In fact, she was beautiful, and no wonder my dad had fallen in love with her.

Soon we had polished all the trophies, and Mum placed them gently back into the cabinet, where they gleamed brightly through the glass door. As we gathered up the dirty newspaper, she suddenly sat down again. Wiping tears from her eyes, she said, ‘Dad will be home soon, Lizzie. I just know it.’

I fervently hoped this was true.

A few minutes later, Granny arrived back. She must have hurried because she was out of breath.

‘There’s something I want to say to you, Beth,’ she said, glancing at me as she spoke. ‘Lizzie, do you want to go and play with Emily?’

I was surprised, as she hadn’t let me go earlier, but before I could answer, Mum said, ‘I think we should both listen to what you have to say, Mary.’

Granny nodded. ‘I want you both to come and stay with me in Victoria Road.’

Mum looked wearily at her. ‘What if Peter comes home and we’re not here?’

‘Well, he knows my address, Beth. I’m not asking you to move to another country, just to another house. I mean, will you have enough money to pay the rent here, and what if you have to get a job, who’ll look after Lizzie?’

‘I would rather stay here, Mary. What will happen when Peter comes home and we’ve given up this house? Where will we all live then?’

‘Well, let’s compromise. Keep this house on for the foreseeable future but come and live with me, just to begin with. After a few weeks, you can return here if that’s what you want.’

Mum looked at me. ‘Do you want to spend a few weeks at Granny’s house?’

I didn’t know what to say. I could feel Granny’s eyes boring into the back of my head. Mum looked so delicate and weary, and I was worried about her coping on her own. However, I was saved from making this momentous decision by Mum.

‘All right then, Mary: we’ll come for a few weeks, just until I feel stronger. Lizzie will be back at school soon and then we’ll talk about it again.’

Granny looked relieved. ‘Well, let’s get your packing done.’

We packed our clothes and I was allowed to take some of my toys. Mum brought another suitcase from the lobby press and she carefully wrapped up all Dad’s trophies. ‘I want to take these with us.’

‘Granny, we’ve polished them so they’ll look nice in your display cabinet,’ I said.

She smiled. ‘So I see.’ She got the suitcases together. ‘I’ve arranged for a car to come and collect everything.’

‘Mum, have I got time to say goodbye to Emily?’

Granny looked unsure, but Mum said, ‘Just a quick visit, Lizzie, and don’t forget you’ll see her at school soon.’

I ran as quickly as I could. Mrs Whyte opened the door. ‘Lizzie, Emily was hoping you would come along. How is your mother?’

‘We’re going to stay with Granny Flint and I have to say goodbye to Emily, Mrs Whyte.’

Emily came in and her face lit up.

Her mother said, ‘Lizzie can’t stay long, Emily. She’s going to stay with her granny, but you will still see her at school.’

Before Emily could answer, my mum appeared. ‘That’s the car now, Lizzie. Goodbye, Mrs Whyte and Emily. We’re not going to be away for long, just a few weeks, so we’ll see you soon.’

Emily and her mum came down with us to the street and they both waved as we set off towards Victoria Road. Mum’s face was white and strained-looking, while I had a strange lump in my throat. Still, it was only a few weeks and then we would be home again, hopefully with Dad by our side.

Granny’s flat was two stairs up at 88 Victoria Road, in the close nearest Nelson Street. The front windows overlooked the stairs that led down King Street and the road was much busier than Garland Place. It also didn’t have the park beside it.

We put our suitcases in the bedroom, which Granny said I would share with Mum. It was a lovely room and had two single beds that had matching colourful patchwork quilts.

For a brief moment I thought Mum would collapse on the bed, but she pulled herself together and began to unpack. She placed our clothes in the large wardrobe and the chest of drawers and put her silver-backed hairbrush on the top along with mine.

She looked around her. ‘Well, Lizzie, this will be home for a few weeks.’

I had my box with its collection of postcards in my hands. ‘I’ve brought Aunt Margaret’s postcards with me. Will I put them under the bed?’

Mum thought that was a good idea. ‘I will have to write to Margaret tomorrow. Oh, I wish she could be here with us, but she’s in Rio de Janeiro with Gerald.’ She looked tired and there were dark shadows under her eyes.